


New Year's Dance

by james



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a tiny snippet of Clint on New Year's.  Written for a <a href="http://insmallpackages.livejournal.com">insmallpackages</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Dance

Clint sat on his sofa -- ignoring the spring digging into his back -- and looked around at his completely undecorated, mostly uncleaned apartment. He could hear the sounds of increasing revelry growing outside and knew he could easily go out and join in. Some of his neighbors and tenants would be up on the roof, with beer and noisemakers and who knew what else, scrounged from whatever they had on hand to ring in the new year.

He could have gone to join them. He could even have gone to the Avengers Mansion; Tony had sent him no less than twelve invitations, three of which had been delivered in person by Tony once, and Steve twice. Secretly, Clint had a harder time saying no to Tony; with Steve it was easy to pretend he really was just being nice and polite. But with Tony in his living room, being all earnest and cheerful and eyeing Clint's furniture like it was an affront to Stark's very existence, it was difficult to remember why he didn't want to go.

Not that getting drunk on Tony's champagne wasn't a definite temptation. Clint's fingers itched at the thought of being wrapped around a delicate flute of something extremely alcoholic -- the glass would probably be more expensive than every piece of kitchenware Clint owned, combined. But he wasn't up for the festivities, wasn't up for his friends and occasional co-workers to be in his face, drunk and merry and insisting that he come dance, just once.

Clint wandered over to his stereo, the one he'd unwired and re-wired to get rid of whatever horror Tony had inflicted on it when Clint hadn't been home to shoot him. He switched it on, wiggled the volume control until actual sound came out, then turned, facing his empty apartment.

He wanted to dance. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of old-school big band fill the room. He could almost imagine that he was dancing, maybe someplace like a real dancehall, or maybe in a small alcove tucked away at Tony's party, or-- He heard a click and smiled. Waited where he was, and it didn't take long for the sound of footsteps to pause before him, and he could feel the heat of a body beside him and smell the lingering scent of sweat and aftershave.

Without hardly moving at all, Clint leaned forward and felt Phil take his weight, one arm going around Clint's waist and the other coming up to catch his hand.

"You're late, started without you," Clint said, softly, unable to keep from smiling wide enough to nearly break his ears in two.

Phil chuckled softly. "I'll just have to dance faster, to catch up."


End file.
